


The Tale Of Starlord The Barista And His Four Customers

by frostfall



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostfall/pseuds/frostfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or the four customers that seem to make an impact on Peter's life (or at least, somewhat) and the time when they mash together to become the ultimate impaired family of all time. AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale Of Starlord The Barista And His Four Customers

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the hardest for me to write so far, probably since I only watched the movie once and never read the comics (though I always wanted to). So I apologise for any OOC-ness in this fic. Unbetaed as well. You have been warned. Plus, I suck at summaries so pardon it.

**1\. Gamora**

 

 

 

If looks could kill, Peter would be reduced to ashes every single moment she lays her eyes on him.

Sure, she's hot, like really,  _really_  hot but her 'don't-fuck-with-me-unless-you-want-to-lose-your-eye' vibes are so strong that it takes all of Peter's being to not flirt with her. At all.

But 'tries' is the word.

Their first conversation is a painful disaster. Peter ends up having a black eye that lasts for months.

Then again, it _is_ kinda Peter's fault. He shouldn't have been staring down at her boobs. But really, who could blame him? She has a nice set of boobs and really, boobs.

She storms out of the place but returns the next day. This time, Peter tries not to look down at her chest. Or any part of her body that is related to sex.

He's sort of terrified of her.

Okay, he's fucking terrified of her. He's truly convinced she  _will_ murder him in his sleep, not to mention that she takes his breath away. As cheesy as it sounds, it's true.

He doesn't breathe a word to her, besides the typical words a barista must speak to every single customer ('how may I help you?', 'thank you, come again') and even then, he's kinda nervous. Just a little.

But Peter is Peter and he can't keep his fucking mouth shut for long.

He almost asks her ' _why are you a fucking hot mean asshole?_ ' before he catches himself at one point. He ends up ranting to her about the merits of Walkmans and the blasphemy that are iPods. Peter is so sure she'll punch him again.

She doesn't.

Instead, she disagrees pointedly and adds her own points and before he knows it, they're bantering back and forth. Peter is thankful his head isn't rolling around on the floor for taking that chance.

She even tells him her name, which is pretty much a bonus in Peter's book. He had to resort to calling her 'The Mysterious Hottie', before that, which he thankfully doesn't say out loud, because really, he values his life too much. He hasn't even gotten to travel to Mars yet, let alone made his first million.

It becomes a regular thing ― their random banters ― to the point that Gamora would make a point to come around the time his shift ends just to talk, which is both surprising, weird and great at the same time.

He makes her usual chai tea latte before he clocks out and then, they'd spend their time trading stories and opinions in one corner of the coffee shop for the rest of the evening.

He regales her with tales of star-gazing with his amazing but dead mother, the ghostly image of his never-present father and the awesome mixtapes he made when he was a kid. She tells him of her wonderful deceased parents, her loveless foster family and her stressful work-life (she's apparently a private investigator but Peter is still convinced that she's some highly trained assassin in the FBI).

He decides to try his luck again about a month since they met. She accepts,  _finally_ , without any hesitation (much to his surprise) and his inner self is fist-pumping and rolling around on the floor, because  _finally_.

"But," she begins. "you screw tonight up, you're fucked."

He flashes his pearly whites, just to dazzle her. She's unfazed.

"Don't you worry. I'll make sure I don't get fucked." He smirks. "If you know what I mean, that is."

Gamora rolls her eyes. "Dream on, Quill. Dream on."

Of course, things don't go according to plan. Nothing ever goes to plan when it comes to Gamora.

But then, her lips are on his and her hands in his hair, well,  _fuck_.

 

 

 

**2\. Rocket**

 

 

 

The first time Rocket comes in, he complains, complains and _complains_.

Complains about the lack of vodka in his coffee, complains about how salty the potato chips are (and really, it ain't Peter's fault that the potato chips are oversalted), complains about the lack of taste in music in his annoying Cockney accent. It tests Peter's patience but he doesn't react.

But as soon as the next words are spilled out from Rocket's mouth, Peter jumps him.

Because fucking goddamn, no one insults  _Hooked On A Feeling_.  _No one_  messes his fucking jam.

 _No one_.

He gets an earful from Yondu later (' _do you want me to fucking lose more customers at your expense again, boy?_ ') and decides to keep his temper in check.

But the dick comes back with more sharp words a few days later and by the end of the hour, there are bruises marring Peter's beautiful face, his ears ring due to Yondu's yells and his monthly pay is halved.

Moral of the story ― never call Rocket little.

Or tiny. Or midget. Or puny. Anything small-related basically.

Peter thinks it's the last of Rocket.

It isn't.

He returns for another round of Russian Coffee and buys a soft chocolate chip marshmallow cookie. He insults the coffee but gobbles the cookie in front of Peter and requests for another.

 _Score_.

Rocket returns every day for the cookies. When he's running late and the coffee shop is running low on supply, Peter makes sure to put aside a cookie just for the little guy.

And no, not because he's growing fond of that tiny smartass, of his cross comments, of aggravating accent, of his OCD tendencies.

Not at all.

But he has to admit, the dwarf can build a mean toy robot. Or a toy car. Or a Jedi sword. Out of freaking scrap. In front of Peter's eyes.

"What?" Rocket calls from across the room. "It's as if you've never seen a toy spaceship in your life."

"That's not why I'm staring," Peter replies. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Do what?"

He gestures to the toy that eerily looks like an exact duplicate of the Enterprise circling the coffee shop. "Build...that. In less than a couple minutes."

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Rocket's lips. "Intelligence, Quill. Intelligence. Though, I supposed I can understand why you're so fascinated, considering your brain lacks any form of such things."

Peter doesn't reply but makes a mental note to add some salt into that Russian Coffee Rocket has slowly grown to love the next time the tiny smartass stops by.

 

 

 

**3\. Groot**

 

 

 

Groot is tall, gentle and hard to understand.

From what Peter could decipher from Rocket's (who happens to be his 'co-worker', though the tall guy works at the flower shop across the street and Rocket 'fixes and builds things') thick accent, Groot is from some place that Peter forgot because he sucks at remembering names of places that he's not familiar with.

Hence, the lack of understanding in the English language.

Well, he does know English. According to Rocket, it's just that he only speaks three words:

I.

Am.

Groot.

And that's all he says. And he says it over and over and over again.

Funny thing is, those words, when said, has different meanings, other than the fact that he is Groot.

That's probably the sole reason why he's always in Rocket's company. The tiny dude understands what his lanky 'co-worker' says.

Example:

"I am Groot."

"An espresso."

Or:

"I am Groot."

"Extra cream."

Or:

"I am Groot."

"Could you give him extra napkins?"

That kind of thing.

So when Groot drops by alone one day, Peter inwardly freaks out.

"Um, hi," he says nervously because really, he doesn't want to mess up and get thrown across the room because Groot is fucking tall. "Anything I can help you with?"

"I am Groot."

Oh, he is so fucked.

"Um..." Peter glances behind him, sending a silent prayer up to every single god that exists in this universe for help. "Well, um, you can point up to the menu and tell me what you want?"

He hopes he survives this. The dude  _is_  tall after all.

But Groot is the guy who hands out little daisies to strangers, who grooves to 80s tunes, who gives piggyback rides to little kiddies because he can, unlike a  _certain_  little smartass.

But then again, Rocket couldn't even if he tried. His tiny frame would be crushed.

A long hand stretches out to point above Peter's head. "I am Groot."

His eyes glances up. "Um, the mocha ice latte?"

"I am Groot."

"Is that a yes?"

"I am Groot."

Oh god, kill him. Why couldn't he just have a regular like most?

"...Nod for yes and shake for...no."

A shake. Groot points again.

"The iced caffè macchiato?"

A nod.

 _Halle-fucking-llujah_.

Peter makes Groot's coffee while Groot sways to Taylor Swift. And though Peter thinks that Taylor Swift is pretty cool (and that's saying  _a lot_ , coming from a manly man like him), he still prefers his 80s tunes over her. But then, according to Yondu, 'there is so much Awesome Mixes people can take'.

"Here," Peter hands it to Groot. "Hope you like it."

He swallows a mouthful before flashing Peter a broad smile. It's so infectious and innocent and child-like that Peter couldn't help but smile back.

He likes this guy all right.

 

 

 

**4\. Drax**

 

 

 

Drax scares Peter. Not like Gamora, who is beautiful and mysterious but looks like she could kill you in a hundred different ways, he's sure. Drax could throw you everywhere and pummel you to the ground  _and_  kill you.

For real.

He's scary and angry and operates his own boxing gym at the end of the street. Quitters run out crying out of fright, students rant about the man's intense regime, townsfolk speak to his face with respect but gossips about him behind his back.

As for Peter, he has learnt to not mess with the dude or say the wrong things. The hard way.

No to mention that it's hard to talk to the guy, considering that he takes things way too literally (like really, how could anyone think that cats and dogs can rain from the sky and how could anyone smell failure anyway) and it ticks Peter off a little because he has to explain it all, painfully slowly he might add.

Peter thinks Drax is incapable of being sad or happy, just furious and yelling and serious.

But then one day, Drax comes in, orders his typical black coffee, looking all angry and scary, per usual. But there's something different, something off.

"Dude, are you okay?"

Drax looks up at him. Peter tries not to whimper. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look, um, you seem blue."

"I am not blue. You need your eyes checked."

Peter bites the inside of his cheek. "That's not what I meant. You look...sad."

Drax shrugs. "It will pass. Do not worry about me. I will be fine."

But Peter knows anguish when he sees it. He has seen it in Gamora's eyes when she relates to him about her dead parents, Rocket when he gruffly tells him about his time as a test subject at a laboratory, Peter himself when he looks in the mirror and sees his mother's bright blue eyes staring back at him.

He moves to the front of the counter to engulf Drax in a tightly wrapped hug.

Peter could feel onlookers staring. Fuck them all. Drax needs comfort. And Peter is going to give it to him.

"Get off me," Drax firmly orders him but there is less anger coating his voice than usual. "Or would you want me to throw you to the floor?"

Though Peter wants to keep his arms around the man, he pulls away, for the sake of his safety.

"Dude," Peter says. "Hugs help. They really do. Don't you hug your own family when they're down?"

Drax looks like he has been punched. Peter realises he really, really stepped over a line.

"I didn't...I didn't mean to―"

"It's fine," Drax says. It sounds like a choke. "It  _will_  pass."

Peter pulls him back.

This time, Drax doesn't pull away. Neither does Peter. Only when Yondu yells at him for harassing a customer that he does.

Because really, everybody needs a little comfort sometimes.

 

 

 

**\+ 1. Everybody**

 

 

 

Okay, so maybe it's a bad idea to bring the four together. A _very_ bad idea. In the coffee shop no less.

The night the four meet one another is the night that Rocket gets his face squished, Drax's face marred by cuts, Groot a long gash on his arm (which shocks Peter because he always thought of the big guy as a peace-loving hippie pacifist), Gamora treating everybody's wounds and broken glasses and mugs that Peter has to pay in compensation.

Well, in Peter's defense, they have become some sort of friend to Peter (though Gamora and him might or might not be a thing so yeah, different story that is) so well, he figured they could meet and be good friends, just like him and them.

The second meeting, no one tries to kill each other, thankfully.

It almost happens when Drax ends up calling Rocket 'puny' and though Rocket is puny, he does kind of have the right to rip Drax's face off.

But he doesn't because Peter grabs him by the waist before he could leap and claw at Drax's face again. But in the process, knocks a couple mugs over, and yes, out goes his money and into Yondu's big fat wallet.

The third one is much better. Everyone is civilized enough to play poker without beating the other up.

But everyone ends up in shouting matches (except Groot because he lacks the vocabulary for insults speech-wise). Thankfully, nothing breaks this time.

It becomes a regular thing ― the five meeting up after the coffee shop closes every Friday to play a game. Peter likes the arrangement. He never really has a group of friends to do stuff like this.

So seeing them come together is, well, pretty cool and fun.

Today is Scrabble and Peter is losing. Losing hard.

Rocket (no surprise there) and surprisingly Groot are neck-to-neck (both have each won two matches), with Gamora hot at their heels. Drax is way behind Peter, which is kind of a consolation.

Well, until Drax quits halfway through the first round and resigns himself to keep score.

"What?!" Peter exclaims when Rocket lays his letters down. "Does that even exist?"

"Well, if you don't believe me, sore-loser, check the fucking dictionary. 96 points, Drax."

Drax wordlessly jots it down. Peter glares down at the word. What the hell does  _idiosyncratic_ mean anyway?

Fucking smartass.

It's Groot's turn. He carefully tucks his words next to Rocket's, connecting the 't' in  _idiosyncratic_.

Peter groans. What the fuck is the meaning of  _abnegation_?

"That's it. I quit."

Gamora throws her head back and lets out a laugh. It's melodic. Peter loves her laugh. "Quill, quitting is worse than losing. It's cowardly."

"What if I want to be a coward?"

"Then, you're not a man."

Peter opens his mouth to retort but Rocket beats him to it. "Yeah, don't be like Drax over there."

"I did not quit. I merely decided to observe."

"Yeah, yeah, sureeeeeeee."

"Yes, I'm sure."

Rocket lets out a heavy sigh. "I was being sarcastic, you dolt."

"What is this dolt? How am I a dolt?"

Peter has to refrain from face-palming. "Now, that is a prime example of being a dolt."

Gamora nudges him in the ribs. Peter just winks. Gamora rolls her eyes but a small laugh escapes her lips.

"I still don't understand this 'dolt'."

"I am Groot."

"For god's sake, Groot, I ain't telling him that. Do you want to have your face pummelled to the ground again?"

"I am Groot."

"Is 'dolt' an insult, Quill?"

Peter has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. The last time he didn't, he got his handsome face smashed onto the window glass.

"No, not really," he says quickly. "Your turn, Gamora."

As the night wears on, so does their banter. It's like family, Peter thinks. It feels like he's a part of some kind of crazy dysfunctional family. And he's fine with that.

As Rocket tries to patiently explain to Drax that  _no, just because you don't like yoga, it doesn't mean you have half a brain_  and Groot is weaving a flower crown of daisies in his hands quietly while his shoulders dance to  _Ain't No Mountain High Enough_ , all Peter could think is how homely this feels. It's been a long time since he feels that way, a long time since he feels like he truly  _belongs_.

He feels a hand slip into his under the table. It's Gamora's.

There's a small smile gracing her lips, like she knows, she gets it, what he's thinking.

Peter squeezes it. She squeezes back.


End file.
